


Balthazar Black: Dark Angel

by Party_Barnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Dean Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Best Friends, Castiel & Dean Winchester Friendship, Child Abuse, Dean and Cas are just friends, Drunk John Winchester, Epic Friendship, F/M, Gen, Good Parent Castiel, Male Friendship, No Romance, No Smut, No destiel relationship, No kissing description, Parent Dean Winchester, no descriptions of sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Party_Barnes/pseuds/Party_Barnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester had a rough childhood, blamed by his father for his mother's death. After moving to a new home for what feels like the millionth time, Dean meets Castiel. </p><p>Their friendship is what makes Dean realise he IS worth something, and makes him try his best to pull himself out of what felt like a bottomless pit of pain and nothingness.</p><p>But everybody leaves Dean and nothing goes right for him, so why should he believe Cas when he promises to never leave him? </p><p>Dean can't rely on comic book heroes to help him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoking Kills

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that this is terrible but I enjoyed writing it :) criticism is welcome

Sam stood carefully beside his father, cautious not to stand in his way as he lifted boxes out of the back seat of the Impala. He seemed so tiny standing next to John, his twelve year old self barely 5feet tall. This was the third time they had moved in a five month period and the Winchester boys were getting sick of it. Sam had begged that this was the last time, but John had just glared at Dean and said - "it's up to him." Sam had always been really confused at his fathers relationship with Dean because they never seemed to talk. And Dean was always the strongest, bravest person he had ever met, but under the stare of John, Dean would shrink to a toddler who had barley learned to talk and had just wiped chocolate all over a white carpet. 

"Take this inside." John said sternly when Dean emerged from the garage. Without a word, Dean carried each and every box into the house whilst John helped Sam pretend to drive the car. A stone skipped along the pavement and crashed silently into Dean's biker boot, causing him to trip slightly. Beside him now stood a dark haired boy with dazzling blue eyes and looked to be about Dean's age. 

"Are you guys just moving in?" He asked politely as he took note of the box Dean was carrying towards the empty house. Behind him, John was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he showed Sam all of the little devices in the car. 

"Yeah."Dean said bluntly. 

"Cool! I'm Castiel." The boy said, holding out a tanned hand for Dean to shake. Dean tucked the box further under his shoulder so that he could shake Castiel's hand without dropping the box of things from his brothers childhood. 

"Dean, Dean Winchester." Dean said with a smile, a beautiful, dazzling smile.

"Dean." John grunted from the drivers seat of the Impala. Sam looked round, concerned and confused at what Dean had done wrong. Dean just released Castiel's hand and carried the last of the boxes inside.

Once he was done, Dean asked his dad if he could hang out with Castiel, who he had seen sitting on the curb for the last hour. John agreed, only to get Dean out of his hair whilst he and Sam worked on Sam's bedroom. Dean's room wasn't going to get any tender love and care like Sam's was; Dean was happy with plain walls, a bed and a dresser, so long as he got to hang a few posters of classic rock bands.

 

"Hey, Castiel right?" Dean said as he approached the shaggy haired boy. It was summer, so he was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and a pair of old, torn jeans. Dean wore the same as he always wore, the battered jeans he owned, plaid shirt and leather jacket with biker boots. 

Dean wasn't really used to making friends, so he was surprised when he found himself introducing himself a second time to a strange kid he had only met an hour ago. However, it dawned on him that he would be living here for longer than a few months and he had better make the effort to get out of the house.

"Yeah, hey Dean." Castiel replied. "You wanna hang out? There is never anyone my age around here, it's all little kids." Dean nodded, he just wanted to get away from home for a bit. 

The boys hit it off quickly. Castiel showed Dean all of his favourite hang out spots. Dean soon learned that Castiel didn't have any friends whatsoever, but he didn't feel bad for him. Castiel was slightly reserved but happy enough to have a conversation, and Dean was glad to have someone to talk to. Castiel's favourite place to go was the lake, and it wasn't far from both of the boys' homes so they would walk there quite often and stay there until it got dark. Dean sensed that Castiel didn't enjoy spending much time at home, just as he didn't.

Dean spent as much time as he could out with Castiel before his dad would start to get mad. The two became fast friends and arranged to meet whenever John would allow Dean to go out, which was more often than not, unless he needed Dean to watch Sam. Sam hadn't made any friends the first few days as John kept him inside most of the time, but Dean would always be happy to play video games with him during the evenings before John sent them both to bed. It bugged Dean that John treated Sam like an 8 year old, even though he was 12 years old, edging towards 13; but he figured it was best to keep him in the blissfulness of childhood for a few more years.

The first few weeks of living in his new home were easy-ish. It was summer, so there was no school which was both a good and bad thing. School was a wonderful escape for Dean, but the bad report cards would always allow John to make up for lost time. But the days were hot and Dean had a friend. He and Castiel would spend most days at the park or by the lake. Dean would use the little money he earned working the part time job at a corner store he'd gotten to ease his nights to buy cigarettes that he would smoke beside a tree or at the bank of the lake whilst Castiel drew in his sketchbook. 

"That's going to kill you by the way." Castiel said one day. Even though both Dean and Castiel were 16, Castiel sometimes talked like he was 30, going on about all of the dangers in life. Dangers Dean already knew too well.

"If these don't, something else will." Dean said coldly, but realistically. He was never one for subtlety, and he knew that he was going to die one day, and he wasn't scared of it. 

"Ray of sunshine, you're a right joy to be around you know that?" Castiel joked sarcastically as Dean blew smoke rings onto the water. For the past few days Castiel had been sketching the lake whilst Dean listened to the radio or something. He spent most of his time sketching. "Dean, come here and tell me what you think." He said, holding up the beautifully drawn picture of the sun setting on the lake, with the trees surrounding and reflecting on the water. 

"Wow, that's great Cas! You should do this professionally or something. Like comics." Dean said, deadly serious. He had observed many of Cas's drawings and sketches, and it made him jealous that the only talents he possessed were being able to blow smoke rings or fix up a car every now and then. Cas always felt very bashful after receiving compliments on his work, so he issued a gentle nudge into Dean's shoulder with his elbow. Dean winced as soon at Cas's elbow made contact with his sore area but tried to conceal it the best he could, clearly failing.

"What's the matter?" Cas asked, concerned. Dean just rubbed the area just above his shoulder blade carefully, flinching at his own touch. "Dean?" Cas said, pulling down the collar of Deans t-shirt to reveal the large purple bruise beneath. 

"It's nothing." Dean said, snatching Cas's hand away and shuffling further down the river bank.

"That sure doesn't look like nothing." Cas argued.

"I was play fighting with Sammy and the little bastard pushed me." When he could see Castiel wasn't convinced, he tried adding a little more detail to liven the story, "I tripped over the dining chair and slammed into the edge of the counter." Dean had always lied convincingly enough to fool everyone who had ever questioned his bruises. He tried to avoid the classic, 'I tripped down the stairs' and instead used things that made him look tough such as, 'I got into a fight.' Or 'that's what happens when you make out with your friends girl.'

"Yeah, sure." Cas turned back to his drawing and shaded in a pointless area, not making any difference to the sketch. Dean could see that Cas didn't believe his lie, but there was no way he was telling him the truth. They had only been friends for the better of 3 weeks, it wasn't time to get personal.


	2. Tap it out and Peace might make an appearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are fast friends, and Cas thinks it's about time Dean opened up.

After almost 3 months of living in their new home, Dean arrived home one night to Sam playing video games in the living room. 

"Hey Dean! You wanna play?" He asked cheerfully. Sam was always in a good mood. He was still a scrawny little child, not much taller than the average 9 year old. He had a mop of dark, brown hair that had begun growing down towards his neck. Even after living in their new home for 3 months, Sam had only made one friend, Jess was the girl next door and Sammy had a crush. Most days, Sam would just help John in the garage or read in his room. Dean never failed to notice his little brother's genius, it made him proud to see him succeed. 

"Sure, buddy." Dean smiled at his little brother. The two of them had always gotten on, ever since their mother died Dean had practically raised Sam. Sure, John did all of the fun stuff with him, like took him for drives in the impala or tossed a football around, but Dean did all of the important stuff. When they were young, Dean would occasionally get sick of teaching Sam to walk or talk or drink from a big boy cup, so he would disappear for five minutes into his tree house. Being only six years old, Dean would fear the consequences and try to avoid them, but more often than not he would end up with a fat lip or split eyebrow. 

"Come on Sammy, bed time." John ordered gently, tousling Sam's ever growing, dark hair and making him giggle. He did as he was told, turning off the game and earning a pat on the shoulder from his father before disappearing into his bedroom. 

Dean and John sat in silence for a while, John drinking beer and Dean drumming his knees with his fingers. He played Kansas over and over in his head, as he often did. 

Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more.

Dean waited for the day when he could lay his head to rest. He waited for the peace. It was those lyrics that he sang in his mind when John took his fist to Dean's rib cage after his second beer. Dean just took it now, even when he had done nothing to edge him on. Maybe he always deserved it, because he killed his mother. Because he couldn't take care of Sammy, or just because he was a disappointment.

Carry on my wayward son.  
Carry on my wayward son.  
Carry on.

He tried to carry on, but sometimes it was hard. When John finally let him sleep, he would dream of the last ounce of peace he could remember. His mother singing him 'hey Jude' as he cuddled into her warm chest. Sammy cooing calmly in the crib beside his bed. John smiling in the doorway as the shadows from the street danced across the ceiling, soothing the brothers into an easy slumber. But morning would rip him from his sleep and from his dreams and he would have to face life all over again. 

John was making pancakes in the kitchen with Sam whilst Queen flowed from the radio when Dean headed out to meet Cas. Both of them smiling, and to an outsider, they seemed like a perfect family. Sam had waved goodbye to Dean, lifting a plastic whisk in his direction and licking the pancake batter from it as a teasing gesture. Dean just ruffled his hair and flashed his brother a smile before making the 20 minute walk to the lake.

"So, how is your drawing coming along?" Dean asked, lighting his first cigarette of the day. 

There were never any people at the lake, only ever Dean and Castiel. The two if them had it all to themselves, and that was how they liked it. Peaceful and happy. Like nothing could get to them there, their lives were behind them and they could be themselves.

"It's going okay, I might do what you said, about the comics." Cas smiled at the thought. He had always loved to draw, his brother had gotten him into it, even bought him an art set for his birthday. "I think it could be good, maybe superheroes or something." 

"Yeah, superheroes are cool." Dean smiled along with Cas, encouraging his idea. The two of them watched the water, calm and still. Cas thinking of his first superhero character, what they would wear, what their power would be. And Dean thinking of his future, just a few years where he could have his own place. Both boys ideas of fantasy were very different. But both were fantasies. 

"How are your bruises?" Cas asked, breaking the soothing silence. Dean tensed up and let out a sigh.

"They're good, I guess."

"Look, Dean. I don't mean to intrude on your life, I've only known you for what? Three months? But you can talk to me, you know ... If you want to." Cas sounded genuinely concerned, but he was like that. He was so caring, Dean had noticed this since the first time they met up. His amazing blue eyes reflected the shimmer of the water as they watched the lines on Dean's nose crinkle up as he decided on a response. He body and head faced the water, but he flashed his sparkling green irises towards Cas as he spoke.

"He's strong, and if you don't tense up, it hurts less." He admitted as he began tapping the familiar rhythm with his boots. 

Cas seemed to understand what Dean meant by this immediately, but he didn't break the eye contact between the two of them.

"What about Sam?" He asked, not pushing for any details.

"He doesn't touch Sam. Only me. It's not like I don't deserve it." Dean said, suddenly defensive but truly believing the words that passed his lips. 

"What can a person do to deserve that?" Cas snapped angrily. He had shuffled his way closer to Dean so he could hear his quiet words better.

Dean was finding it easier to be open with Castiel than he had expected, maybe because for the first time in forever someone was actually listening to him. He took a deep breath and thought hard about his next words, wondering whether he should drag Cas into his emotional pit of destruction.

"I killed my mom when I was a kid, I guess he never forgave me for it." It wasn't true that Dean killed his mom, but it was what he believed. He told Cas the story of how he was only four years old and had gone to the bathroom. A fire had started in the kitchen and Dean immediately fled the house, of course his mother didn't know that Dean had escaped the fire and was looking for him inside when she died of smoke inhalation. Cas tried to convince him that it wasn't Dean's fault, but he had been hearing the same lines his whole life. But what other reason could his father have for hating him so much? 

Castiel took a deep breath and Dean felt himself tense up, not knowing what words to expect from his friends mouth. Cas shuffled away back to his original spot on the grass and poked his pencil between his teeth, rolling it about a little before he spoke.

"Well anyway, I want you to come over to my place tomorrow and help me with this comic." Cas suggested. He wanted to give Dean an escape, he wouldn't question him about the events that happen in his life, but we wanted to give Dean something to look forward to every day. 

So every day, Dean would go to Castiel's house and they would create superheroes and story-lines for their comic. Cas would try and teach Dean to draw - which would often fail because he had absolutely no artistic talent - and Dean would teach Cas the correct way to air guitar to classic rock songs - which would also often fail because even though Cas had toned, muscly arms, he could only make loose movements that made it look like he had no control of what his arms were doing. Their friendship managed to blossom over the summer and the two spent almost every waking hour together. Even when Dean was working at the local convenience store, Cas would come by and show him the newest additions to the comics. 

It was when school began that things got harder for them. Although they were both in the same school, they didn't spend much time together. Cas was in the more intelligent classes working at A grades whereas Dean spent his time in the less intelligent classes working at D grades. It wasn't long before Dean was going to school with a black eye or fractured eyebrow on a regular basis. Cas tried not to question him about it, but he would often shoot him worried looks at lunch when Dean would clutch onto his ribs whenever he swallowed. 

"You should go to a doctor about your ribs Dean." He advised one evening as he wrapped bandages around Dean's rib cage for the third time that week. Dean held onto the bed frame tightly to stop himself from giving into the pain as Cas tried his best to patch him up. 

"Why would I go see a doctor when I have you to sort me out." Dean mused. 

"It's not funny Dean, he's doing some serious damage." Cas finished up with Dean's ribs and moved onto his wrist. "This is the third time I've bandaged you up this week."

"Stop being a pansy. It's not as bad as it looks. How is the comic going?" Dean tried desperately to change the subject, and he was genuinely interested in the comic he and Cas had been working on for the past 5 months. 

"It's going great, I think I might be able to give you the first addition on your birthday." Cas smiled and handed Dean a wad of paper folded together, filled with drawings and stories of the characters the boys had created. 

"That would be awesome. We've really done a good job." Dean smiled as best he could without allowing his bruised cheekbone to throb in agony. "Dude, I need to get going." He said, realising the time and carefully slotting the comic into it's allocated area on Cas' desk. It had been so long since Dean had actually had a real friend, he had always tried to distance himself from everyone he'd ever met, but Cas was different. It was like he had known Cas for years, and he understood him better than anyone. It was Dean catching Castiel's smile as he turned around that caused the realisation that they had both found their best friend for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic does move at a very random pace, time jumping all over the place so I hope you don't get confused. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if it seems unrealistic in any way ... I'm not a very good writer.


	3. Birthday cards are welcome, but a hero is appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean birthday is here and inspirational words are seeping under his skin. Does life get better at 17?

Dean's birthday came along sooner than he'd anticipated. He woke up to Sam jumping on his bed with a plate of pancakes John had helped him to make.

"Happy birthday Dean!" He squealed happily in his childish voice that had not yet been matured through puberty. The grin that stretched across Dean's face was beautiful, showing his perfect, white teeth from behind his rosy lips. "Dad and me made you pancakes."

"Thanks buddy. Thanks dad." Dean smiled at his father, who forced a smile for Sam's benefit. Dean ate breakfast with his brother and opened the card he had chosen specially at the store. He didn't receive a card from John, but instead a slight pat on the shoulder and a cold 'happy birthday'. He dressed in a black t-shirt and old jeans and tossed his leather jacket on as he began the 25 minute walk to Castiel's family home. Being January, it was cold out and the snow from earlier that month had barely melted away so Dean tried to appreciate the sound of it crunching beneath his boots as he walked. It was Cas's brother, Gabriel who opened the door when he arrived at the Novak Home.

"Happy birthday Dean. Cas is in his room." Gabe smiled cheerfully at Dean. The two of them had only spoken a few times, but Gabriel shared Castiel's kindness with an added hint of sarcasm and humour. Cas' other brothers, Michael and Lucifer, were less kind than Gabe and Cas. Michael was quiet and glared a lot, whereas Luci was obnoxious and loud, often causing arguments in the household. Castiel had told Dean in the summer that it was those arguments that made Cas long for his escape to the lake, and Dean had witnessed one or two of those arguments himself.

"Happy birthday man!" Cas called as Dean entered his bedroom and pulled him into a brotherly embrace, remembering not to apply any pressure to Dean's still tender ribs. Dean winced anyway, even the slightest touch caused them to throb painfully. "Dude, it's been nearly a whole month, those are definitely broken." Cas said, turning away but pointing to Dean's rib cage. Dean had given up on insisting he was fine, he knew that Cas didn't believe it. 

"Where's my present? Asshole." He joked, scanning the room for the comic.

"Here." Cas said, handing Dean a colourful book. It looked like a real comic book, Cas had gotten it printed professionally and copied a few times. The cover was red, with a dark figure holding a crossbow on the front. They had agreed that the heroes power would be a common sense of direction, with added speed. Balthazar Black could shoot an arrow through the eye of a cat from miles away, with enough strength to give the arrow the power to make the journey. He could fire a gun and have the bullet penetrate a single grape from the distance of an entire football field. The book was filled with exciting journeys and dilemmas that Balthazar Black was faced with. To the public, he was known as the 'dark angel'. That had been Cas's idea. 

"It looks great Cas. You did a really good job with this." Dean gave Cas a gentle but encouraging pat on the shoulder. His eyes showed the pride he had for his friend, and Cas returned Dean's proud gesture with a grateful smile. The two of them sat for a while and read through the comic, reminiscing all of the fun they had had whilst creating it before they began thinking of ideas for a new one. 

When it was finally time for Dean to head to work, he insisted that Cas keep his copy of the comic on the desk. He explained that he didn't want John getting hold of it, or Sam and his grubby fingers. Dean worked his shift as usual, and late at night it was often just drunks coming in for their next case of beer. Bobby Singer, the towns local alcoholic was always one to stop and talk to Dean, he was kind and caring and they had grown close over the 7 months Dean had been working there. He somehow knew everything that Dean was going through, although Dean had never told or even mentioned the situation to him. His only guess was that Bobby had experienced a similar childhood, by the look of the old cigarette burns that blanketed Bobby's arms, Dean assumed he was right. Every night Bobby would tell him, "spread your wings just once, and you will always know how to fly." And Dean never really understood what he meant. So Dean would just flash Bobby a kind smile and ring up his beers, sending him on his way. 

That night, Dean lay in bed with an aching pain in his skull. John had lost a bet with a work friend and decided to lay a few punches into Dean before he allowed him to go his room.

"Happy fucking birthday you little shit." He had said before kicking Dean one final time in his already broken ribs. Dean had just spat the blood from his mouth into the bathroom sink and wiped the blood from his forehead before laying down to dream of his mother. But it wasn't her that he dreamt of. It was Balthazar Black, except it didn't look like The Dark Angel, it looked like Cas. 

Dream Cas had taken Dean to the lake and sat him down with his stereo before aiming his sniper rifle right between John's eyes. Instead of pulling the trigger himself, he brought Dean to the gun and closed his finger around the trigger. "Spread your wings, just once, Dean." He said, letting go of Dean's finger to make it so that the action was his own choice. And Dean pulled the trigger.


	4. If I carve my name next to yours, does it prove I'm loyal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets into a bit of trouble before graduation, and some kind words from a kind man could mean everything to an 18 year old.

Graduation came slowly to Cas. He had a job in a gallery lined up that he had been promised as soon as he graduated, but the year had dragged. He and Dean had created the next three additions to The Dark Angel Chronicles and Cas had been recognised for it. Dean was so proud of his friend and what he had helped him to achieve, but things weren't heading the same way for Dean.

Dean had held onto his job in the convenience store, but Cas could see him balancing further on the edge of the wagon. The smoking was picking up and sometimes Dean would smoke 15 a day. It was the drinking that worried Cas; Dean was still underage, and had already taken to drinking unhealthy amounts of beer on a regular basis. Cas could see why he did it, he had a crappy life - he just didn't know how to help him out of it. There was no college waiting for Dean after graduation, only part time work at the convenience store. 

"You should apply for that mechanic job." Cas suggested through a mouthful of pizza. Dean just sat cross legged on Cas's bed, idly peeling through a sports magazine. "I mean, you're pretty good with cars, you could get somewhere with it." Cas continued, shoving more pizza into his mouth as he watched Dean smile at the women's volleyball section of the magazine. 

"Or, I could just carry on at the store and help you with your comics." Dean argued calmly, knowing better than to raise his voice at anyone. It had always been his dream to own his own garage, where he could fix cars to his hearts content; but he feared that his life would find a way of messing it up. "Damn Cas, these girls are hot!" He added, drooling over a blonde in a pair of tiny, orange shorts. 

Dean had always had his way with the ladies, it seemed they liked the gruff, bad-boy types. Cas on the other hand, was a disaster when it came to talking to girls. He was attractive enough, his tanned skin and toned body were just additions to his piercing blue eyes and black 'sex-hair' as Dean called it. Dean had tried to help him out a few times, landing him one or two dates, but it was Meg Masters that Cas wanted. He had been crushing on her ever since middle school but had never worked up the courage to ask her out, and he was scared of telling Dean - just in case he accidentally took her for himself. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, more than once Dean would try setting Cas up on a date and wound up taking the girl out himself. 

The slight howl of the wind could be heard through the gap in Cas's window. Dean had wedged a metal spike in there by accident that now prevented the window from closing. The small bedroom was full of damage caused by Dean and Castiel's mishaps. A small hole could be seen just behind the door where Cas had tripped and gotten his foot stuck in the wall whilst learning a new air guitar technique. The carpet just beneath the window ledge was melted into a hard, brown splodge where Dean had tried to sneak a cigarette at the window but dropped the lighter, causing the carpet to go up in flames. There was a very dodgy carving of 'Winchester' on Castiel's desk that Dean had done with a carving knife, followed by a sloppy 'Novak' that Cas had been encouraged to add. It was all of these little memories that made their friendship so strong, and it made both boys very happy.

It was strange, how fast Cas and Dean had become friends. Dean's only friend had been Sam for a long period of his life, but even that friendship was becoming hard to maintain. Sam was growing up too quickly, and as he approached his 14th birthday he was beginning to take more note of Dean's injuries. Dean knew he didn't have to worry about John turning on Sam, because he was the golden boy, but each time he thought about running away he just couldn't bring himself to abandon his brother. Sammy had grown as tall as Dean in that past year, and as Dean had approached his 18th birthday, Sam was the one who looked 18. As graduation edged closer Cas spent more and more time at the gallery, preparing for his job there. Because of this, Dean was forced to spend time at home.

"Come on Dean! Just one sip?" Sam begged as he eyed Dean's beer. John had left early that afternoon to go bowling with a few work friends, leaving Dean to take care of his little brother. 

"No, Sammy. You're too young." Dean smiled at the now 6 foot teenager, sipping at the refreshingly cool liquid and sighing with satisfaction. Sam's dark brown puppy eyes just trailed after the bottle, flicking up adorably to lock onto the mesmerising green of Dean's eyes in a persuasive manor. 

"Fine." Dean said, passing the bottle to Sam to allow him to take a sip. His still boyish face scrunched up with distaste and he poked his pink tongue out in disgust and his overgrown mop of hair flicked about as he shook his head. "I told you before that you wouldn't like it." Dean joked, recalling the hour long discussion they'd had on the taste of alcohol. "Don't tell dad." He begged, without seeming too desperate. 

But it wasn't as easy as that. It wasn't only Sam who had been drinking alcohol that day. When John returned home, stinking of booze, it wasn't exactly the father Dean had hoped to see. John was bad at the best of times, but drunk John was a nightmare in a leather jacket. 

"Dad, why don't you sit down." Dean offered kindly, trying to lead his stumbling father towards the sofa. Instead of a verbal response, the sharp crack of Johns knuckle against his sons jaw sent him crashing into the counter. Dean immediately reached to soothe the area of impact, rubbing his jaw gently with three fingers. With barely enough time to get back on his feet, Dean was forced to collide with the refrigerator resulting in an aching throb that began at his wrist and faded towards his elbow. He was glad that Sammy had gone over to Jess's to do homework that evening, he didn't know what he would do if he had to see this. 

"Why don't you shut your mouth." John slurred his words terribly as he tried to drag his feet towards the sofa. "Get me a beer." 

Dean watched John with cautious eyes, thinking carefully about what he was about to say.

Spread your wings just once.  
There'll be peace when you are done.

"Get your own goddamn beer." He snapped back, clutching his fingers around the injured wrist. He probably should have guessed what would happen next, but I suppose that's what you get when you try to be a hero.

 

The next morning Dean woke in a bright room, the lights swirling above his head and making his eyes flutter uncontrollably. Well, eye. His left eye and other parts on the left side of his face were barely moveable. The soft beeping sound coming from behind him was what caused him to look to the right, and see Sammy sitting at his bedside. He tried to move, but soon gave up when a sharp pain shot through his side and straight into his neck, keeping him on his back. 

"Sammy?" He croaked, lifting his right arm slightly to reach for his brother. 

"Hey, Dean. Don't try to move, you were in an accident." Sam explained, genuinely concerned. 

"A-accident? What accident?" Dean asked, dazed and confused from the medicine that was pumping into his arm through a drip. He had very little memory of the night before, if any memory at all. He wasn't sure what was real and what he had imagined to make the situation better. 

"Yeah, you went to walk dad home from the bowling alley and must have gotten jumped or something. Dad said he found you unconscious in an alley behind the movie theatre." 

Dean could suddenly feel the effects of the drip medication wearing off. The soft, calming beep of the machine was quickly becoming irritating and the sound of his own breathing made him want to rip out his lungs. Although he thought that ripping out his lungs probably wasn't the best idea at the time as he took note of the plastic nasal cannula in his nose that was doing most of his breathing for him. 

A punctured lung and four broken ribs were the cause of the chest pains, and torn ligaments and a fractured collar bone were the cause of the neck pain. His legs were fine, but the thick, heavy plaster cast that was now suffocating his throbbing wrist told him that it was broken. 

After 2 weeks in hospital (so that his lungs could be monitored) Dean would finally be allowed to go home, but until then he had to endure the company of both Sammy and John. Nurses would come by ever so often to change the bandages on his ribs and check the stitches in his lip and eyebrow. There was nothing to help the healing process of the swollen eye and bruised jaw, but it was nothing a ton of painkillers couldn't fix. By the time Dean would be allowed to go home, he would have only one week before graduation, and Dean would be collecting his diploma with a huge, thumping cast on his wrist. 

"I hate to say I told you so." Cas said when Dean went to his place on his way home from the hospital. He hadn't been to visit him whilst he was on bed rest on the ward because John insisted it only be family. Dean just shrugged off Cas's comment and flicked open a comic with his good hand. He didn't want to argue with Cas because he had always been a fantastic listener, and always gave him the best advice even though he never took it and he wasn't about to ruin what he and Cas had. He had told him so, he had told him so many times. 

"You know this is all your fault." He whispered into the comic at Balthazar Black. Dean knew better than to trust his heart, because it always wound up getting stepped on. It was partly Dream Cas's fault to, for spreading his words of wisdom into the unconscious mind of a semi-alcoholic adolescent. 

Cas had spent many days trying to pull Dean out of his tragic life. He had even offered him a bed at his place, but Dean always refused. Cas thought that maybe it was because his father knew where Cas lived, or maybe it was because of Sam. Dean had explained the situation to him many times before, that John doesn't hurt Sam, but Cas could still see why Dean felt the need to protect his brother. Dean would often talk about his genius baby brother to people, always with the proudest look on his face. Cas could relate with Dean in a few ways, both had deceased mothers and genius brothers, but Cas had a happy childhood and he would never know the fear that Dean would feel every single day of his life. 

Dean began to tap out the familiar Kansas rhythm on his robed knee as the mayor began calling up graduates. Dean was one of the last, with his last name being Winchester and all, and his nerves were beginning to get the better of him. The gentle tap soon became manic drumming that made his finger tips ache, and he would need those fingers to collect his diploma. Castiel was called up with the Newtons and Normans, his last name being Novak and all, and Dean ascended to his feet to cheer on his best friend. Dean did the simple, collect and retreat with the diploma, avoiding the speech whereas Cas took his time to cough meaningful quotes into the crowd of classmates and relatives. 

"Congratulations!" Gabriel said, patting his little brother on the shoulder. "You too, Dean." He added, ruffling Dean's already messy hair. John hadn't bothered to show for the graduation, but he was sure to praise Dean on his diploma later on. 

"Well done son, it's about time you did something right." He mused, patting Dean hard on the back. A feeling of warmth came over Dean that day. He couldn't quite figure out why, but maybe it was because he finally had something that could push him forwards in life. That small, rolled up piece of paper was the one thing that he had achieved, all on his own, and he knew he should be proud. And he was, so that night he slept with a smile on his face; dreaming of his own bright future. 

It was when Dean took his first shift at the convenience store since his 'accident' that his life finally began to pull together. Bobby Singer, the towns local drunk entered the store in a clean, pressed suit and tie. 

Dean's relationship with Bobby was a strange one. Bobby would come in every night when Dean was working his shift and order the same thing; a case of beer and a paper. He always stayed longer than he needed to, talking to Dean about recent news, his dinner, Dean's schoolwork and anything that interested them both. Bobby cared for Dean in way that an uncle cares for his nephew, even though they only ever spent a maximum of an hour talking about random topics. It gave Dean a strange sense of warmth, and it was something he always looked forward to. 

"Good morning, Dean." He said, taking notice of Dean's shift change and clocking the cast on his wrist. He flopped a paper on the desk and reached for a pack of gum.

"No booze today?" Dean asked with a friendly grin plastered across his face as he rung up the paper and gum.

"No, boy. I have to interview a few people for jobs." Bobby chuckled from behind his freshly trimmed beard. Dean watched the man as he flipped through the paper to the side of the counter. 

"So um," he cleared his throat and tried not to sound nosey, "where do you work?" 

Dean found it hard to believe that a man who only wore worn out biker jackets and stiff jeans and rarely trimmed his beard and drank every night could have a stable job, but boy was he wrong.

"I'm the mayors half-brother so I work with him, the job doesn't really have a title." Bobby said proudly. He continued to smile into his paper before scrunching up his face. "What happened to your arm?" He asked, concerned and shifting the attention onto the teenager.

"Oh, uh, I was jumped." Dean lied, his voice catching for a moment. Bobby folded up the paper and tucked it under his arm like people did in cowboy movies. Dean watched as his eyes began to trail over the scars on the teenager's eyebrow, some more than a few weeks old, and that was obvious. 

"Yeah well, I was jumped once or twice myself. Hurts like hell huh?" He clenched his teeth together as if he was reliving the moments all over again, as Dean knew very well often happens. "Well, I've got an extra room at my place that I need occupied. If you're willing to pay rent -" 

"Thanks, but I don't earn enough to rent a room." Dean laughed. His $4 an hour wasn't nearly enough to pay rent on a weekly basis. 

"If you're willing to chip in around the house, the room's yours." Bobby laughed and slammed a card with his number on down on the counter before exiting the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my chapters are really short and the time is wobbly, but ah well.


	5. Houses aren't homes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Bobby up on his offer.

"Nice place you got here." Dean said honestly as he dropped the boxes of his belongings on the kitchen table at Bobby's place. 

"Nice place we've got here." Bobby corrected. 

It had been a matter of days before Dean had finally called Bobby about the room. John had barely batted an eye when Dean told him he was leaving, he just smacked him hard across the face and threw a bunch of Dean's stuff into boxes. It was all out of anger, because John would actually miss Dean when he left. He didn't know what he would miss, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. Sammy was the one who got upset, but Dean's promises that he would take him to baseball practice every Friday soon wiped away his tears. 

Of course Dean was worried about leaving Sammy behind, but Cas had convinced him that it was time to think about himself for a change. Cas and Sam had each others phone number and Castiel would call him every evening to check on him, just in case Dean couldn't while he was working. Cas also lived closer to Sam than Bobby, so Sam was told to go to his place if anything happened and then Dean would come and pick him up.

Dean's new home was warm and safe. The walls were full of pictures of Bobby, his wife and their niece, Jo. Dean took a while to admire the pictures. There were a few of the mayor, who Dean had met once when receiving his diploma for graduating high school. But the pictures were mostly of Jo.

"I'm very proud of her. She's about your age you know." Bobby practically sang her praises into the room as he followed Dean's eyes along the row of photographs of a smiley, pigtailed little girl. Dean flashed a grin over at Bobby, his perfect teeth looked out of place on his battered face. Despite all of the bruises and scars, Dean was still extremely attractive. 

"Dean, you coming?" Cas's voice filled the kitchen as he poked his head in the door, gesturing Dean towards his car. The two of them drove silently to the lake, simply bobbing their heads along to the sound of Bon Jovi on the radio. They went back to the place they had often sat beside the lake and rested their heads on the soft grass. It had been months since they had been to the lake, and summer had just begun. They talked about silly things, like Cas's new job and plans for Dean's room. Being in the hospital had forced Dean to quit smoking, apparently smoking with only one fully functioning lung was a bad idea and the other one couldn't take the extra strain, but he still drank a chilled beer every now and again. Cas could see he was doing better, and he was proud of his friend. 

"I want you to know that I'm - I'm proud of you Dean." Cas said, keeping his eyes on the clouds. 

"Don't be such a sap." Dean teased, nudging Cas with his cast. "What are you proud of me for? I haven't done anything."

"You stood up to your dad. That took guts. Yeah, you wound up in hospital but look what it got you." Cas waved his arms up at the sky, as if he was giving Dean the world and all the stars. "I hope now you realise that you don't need anyone but you."

And he was right. Dean did only need himself, but he wanted what he had, Sammy and Cas and Bobby. They were his family, they had his back and things could only get better.


End file.
